


We don't unravel

by RahDamon



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Cannibalism, M/M, ghoul Lance, ghoul Shiro, if you know Tokyo Ghoul you know the kind of stuff in there, maybe disturbing imagery, mention of vomiting, universe fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RahDamon/pseuds/RahDamon
Summary: “Do you think the Galra screwed around with your biology?”“Maybe,” was his answer back then. By now Shiro’s sure that it’s certain. Shiro can’t consume Galra flesh like Lance can. And he also couldn’t eat Ghoul flesh. Lance pestered him until Shiro accepted the stripe of flesh Lance had peeled off his own body for Shiro.Both times he had had the same reaction he would have had to human food - he retched and vomited until everything in his stomach came out in bloody and green chunks.Frustrated Shiro growls wondering how he managed to regain his senses and mind back on Earth when he couldn’t even consume anything. Often he’d rant so much about it that he never realized how quiet Lance got at that question.





	We don't unravel

These days Shiro always hears drumming.

 

Pidge chatters about their newest invention to help them find the Galra? His head’s throbbing while he tries to listen. Hunk looks at him with hopeful eyes as he puts a plate full of some culinary masterpiece in front of Shiro? His stomach’s twisting in the same beat as the drums. Allura plans out the course of their next attack? Shiro’s pretending to pay attention when the world is swimming away in front of his eyes to be replaced by a red-tinged mirror image.

 

The only one who understands is Lance, which is no coincidence. Lance and Shiro are the same, after all. Lance just doesn’t retch when he gobbles up their enemy soldiers.

 

“Do you think the Galra screwed around with your biology?” Lance asked once, eyes flickering to Shiro’s metal arm. On a human that arm would be horrifying and the process of attaching it quite painful. On a ghoul? They would have needed to keep the wound constantly open while attaching the arm to his body. It would have been pure torture.

 

But Shiro has a Galra arm. And Shiro is a ghoul. Galra are not above torture, or, Haggar and her Druids aren’t above torturing someone just to test a new weapon. And they weren’t above fucking with a living creature’s body, be it Shiro or the Robobeasts.

 

“Maybe,” was his answer back then. By now Shiro’s sure that it’s certain. Shiro can’t consume Galra flesh like Lance can. And he also couldn’t eat Ghoul flesh. Lance pestered him until Shiro accepted the stripe of flesh Lance had peeled off his own body for Shiro.

 

Both times he had had the same reaction he would have had to human food - he retched and vomited until everything in his stomach came out in bloody and green chunks.

 

Frustrated Shiro growls wondering how he managed to regain his senses and mind back on Earth when he couldn’t even consume anything. Often he’d rant so much about it that he never realized how quiet Lance got at that question.

 

Now they have been in space for two months. The more time passes the more worried Shiro gets. Soon. Soon his hunger will take over and he’d certainly kill every human on board, so he could strip off that delicious meat hanging from their useless bones. And Shiro’s hunger will be satisfied and then he can take care of what remains. He just has to get to that hearty meat.

 

Who needs their flesh the least? Or in other words who can sacrifice the most?

 

Hunk. Hunk’s perfect, he can spare one or two pounds of flesh and his meat is sure to be juicy.

 

However, a voice growls, he’s also fatty. Shiro never liked junk food or fast food. Or rather the meat of obese people he found rotting at odd roads and dead-ends and then consumed. Those are all muscle, another voice purrs. Shiro agrees. He has seen Hunk fight. While there’s fat, muscles outweigh by far.

 

But he doesn’t smell good. Not as good as someone else on this ship, the one who smells the most delicious. The two voices agree with this third one.

 

Of course, Shiro knows who is meant. When he had met him the first time, he almost attacked him, ripping out his throat to get closer to the pure scent. Keith had been so lucky that Iverson had been standing between them and Shiro couldn’t have afforded to reveal himself.

 

Shiro still doesn’t know how Keith hasn’t realized what Shiro is. Keith isn’t stupid and Shiro, unfortunately, left enough clues and hints. There had been enough times when Shiro hadn’t eaten before meeting Keith and then always stood to close, nostrils flaring as he took in that delicious smell.

 

Keith is the one human on board - or kind of human considering the recent revelation of his mother’s origin - that truly and honestly appeals to all of Shiro’s senses, though he’s more muscle and sinews than meat.

 

How would he start eating Keith? After all, Shiro doesn’t only want to eat Keith. The others except for Lance, sure, but Keith? No. No, Keith is special and he wants much more than rip into him and be done with it.

 

He wants to nuzzle Keith’s collarbones, which were jutting out too harshly to be healthy, tenderly place his teeth on them and press down. He wants to snag his teeth on the bone, twist, push and pull tearing it out of Keith’s body before he leaned down to lap up the gushing blood. He wants to move upward after licking Keith clean and scrape the flesh off Keith’s throat. And Shiro wants to kiss Keith, bloody lips and feeding him his own meat bits.

 

A throaty moan escapes Shiro and he shivers, hard against his pants. That’s what eventually snaps him out of his daydream.

 

Trembling fingers reach up to cover Shiro’s eyes. Just now he thought of most of his team as food, meat bags good for nothing but feeding him. And Keith. Keith, in his fantasy, was both food and sexual target.

 

Shiro doesn’t trust himself to not act on these urges the next time he sees his team. He either needs to find food or cash in the promise he wrangled out of Lance.

 

When he becomes a danger to the team, Lance will kill him, even though he’s reluctant to do it. And Shiro’s afraid that time has come now. If he can’t find digestible food fast, then he’ll have to scar Lance, not physically which is difficult enough for a ghoul, but emotionally. Lance probably wouldn’t recover, Shiro knows that.

 

Why bother trying? The first voice he heard today whispers. Let’s immediately go to Lance. There’s no food to be found if we don’t hunt the meat bags on this castle. The second voice agrees with a dry Let’s ping him now, and ask him to end us.

 

Let’s find Keith, the third voice says. Before the other two can agree again, Shiro slams his hand into the wall and growls out a loud ‘No’.

 

His hand’s shaking as he fumbles with his communicator and raps a short “Please keep your promise, Lance. I’m in Black’s hangar.” With these words he slides down beside the door, shaking as he takes a deep breath and drowns out the voices by meditating.

 

The door ping as they open and Shiro takes a relieved breath, just to choke on it when he doesn’t smell Lance but Keith. Keith who crouches next to him in two seconds and lays a warm hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

 

Warm is an understatement. Keith’s hand is scorching through the layers of clothes and into Shiro’s skin, making Shiro’s blood and instincts boil over.

 

Shiro hums, teeth deep in delicious warmth, slurping as he drinks the blood whenever he’s sick of biting. Someone is stroking through his hair, trembling, and he sniffs. There’s no third scent anywhere near so the delicious one he has pinned to the floor must be stroking him.

 

“Take as much as you need, Shiro.” They - he whispers, voice hoarse as though he has screamed it raw.

 

Suddenly Shiro’s vision clears and he’s coherent. Keith is lying underneath him, shirt ripped, their bodies pressed together, both hard. What is more important, and worrying, though, is the blood streaking over Keith’s stomach, heaving chest, collarbones, and neck.

 

Ignoring the wave of arousal crashing over him, Shiro scrambles to his feet and lifts Keith into his arms before sprinting towards the healing pods. He’s so concentrated on getting Keith there, that it takes Keith using the hand in Shiro’s hair to tug it back and exposing Shiro’s throat to make him pay attention to Keith.

 

“Are you still hungry?”

 

Shiro stumbles but catches himself before falling to the ground. “Keith, are you seriously asking me that when you’re bleeding out in my arms?!”

 

Keith tugs Shiro’s hair again and ticks his eyebrows

 

Taking a second to check on his hunger, Shiro isn’t surprised to find that he isn’t hungry. It’s not like he ate half of Keith, after all.

 

“No. The next time you find me like this, get Lance.”

 

“He taste better?”

 

That’s bad. Keith’s voice rattles more as it gets quieter.

 

“No, he can stop me from feeding on you.”

 

“Not the first time you did.”

 

“What?!”

 

As they step into what passes as their infirmary, Keith laughs dryly. “Who do you think you fed on when you crashed on Earth?” Wriggling his other hand free, Keith taps on his hips.

 

With bated breath, Shiro puts onto the stairs in front of the healing pod and his hand wanders underneath Keith’s pants. He dreamt of other circumstances whenever he imagined this scenario. But Shiro can feel it.

 

Along Keith’s hip, there’s a small area that’s sunken in, as though Keith’s skin was the moon and the missing bits its craters. Tracing the edges, Shiro determines that there are several mouth-sized holes. He must have shallowly grabbed the flesh between his teeth and ripped it out to gobble it up.

 

Keith strokes him again, back and forth while Shiro prepares the healing pod.

 

“Keith, we’re going to talk about this,” Shiro says as the window of the pod slides shut.

 

Even pale from blood loss and chin blood splatter, Keith finds the energy to smile. “If you fuck me into my bed before that I might even listen.”

 

With that, the pod freezes over and Shiro is left standing there, gaping.

 


End file.
